


Perfect Sense

by armsoftheocean



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armsoftheocean/pseuds/armsoftheocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lizzie Bennet Diaries Universe – a one shot ficlet on what would have been running through Darcy's mind before he would walk into Lizzie vlogging. Spoilers for episode 59.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Sense

**Author's Note:**

> recently got an ao3 account, so i'm posting all my fics here too :)

William Darcy wasn't a man of many words. Or, any words at all, given the type of company he was placed in. This was one of those situations in which he had drifted to the very outskirts of the room, in which people whom he had seen in corporate suits for the past several weeks were decked out in ridiculous costumes – hell, even his  _Aunt Catherine_ for gods' sake, was dressed up. Well, Darcy assumed that she was. Why else would she have been wearing that ridiculous outfit that matched with her dog's?

He scanned the room quickly, his eyes glancing over the DJ's booth, and the makeshift dancefloor, where several couples were dancing. He thought back to the time when he had danced with  _her_ that one time, several months ago. His eyes slid across the bar, where he could see Fitz dressed in an obscenely brightly coloured clown costume, downing several shots.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy! My good sir, I am humbled that you have been able to make it to our modest gathering tonight. Only the most important people at Collins & Collins have been invited, of course. I assure you that you will not be placed in any lesser company than your own grand presence. May I be of assistance and obtain you a dri–" Darcy sighed, and turned around, to see Ricky Collins dressed in a ridiculous bright yellow mustard outfit. Or was it a crayon?

"There is no need for that Mr. Collins. I am perfectly fine right now," Darcy replied with mild annoyance.

"Oh of course, Mr. Darcy! You must let me know if you need any assistance whatsoever! I am here to please!" he replied eagerly, bobbing his pointed head up and down, the yellow hat-like lid drooping down over his forehead.

"Do you not think this party is absolutely  _splendid,_ Mr. Darcy? I, for one, think it is simply a fantastic way for inter-corporate bonding…" Collins seemed to drone on for ages, and Darcy zoned out, his eyes quickly scanning the crowded room for  _her._

The fact he was so intently bent upon seeing her worried him slightly, because why on earth could he have formed an  _attachment_ to Elizabeth Bennet? He didn't form attachments to anyone. But Darcy had begun to begrudgingly accept the fact that he was – yes – very nearly falling in love with the brunette haired graduate student he had met only several months ago.

He had known that the two of them being in a relationship would be absolutely impossible – downright laughable, in fact. Her mother was a vapid and vain woman, who cared more about designer tags than her own daughters. Her father gave absolutely no care to any situation at hand, and would let his daughters run free, if it weren't for the fact Lizzie and Jane were both sensible. However, the youngest, Lydia, was absolutely  _wild._ She was loud, callous, and obnoxious. What kind of parents would allow their underaged daughter to go to  _bars?_ By their short acquaintance, he had gathered for Lydia's character to mirror her own mother's.

It was impossible to believe that Lizzie Bennet – charming, opinionated, snarky, funny, gorgeous, smart, brilliant and wonderful  _Lizzie_ – could be related to a family like that.

But she was. And Darcy supposed that it was that which made their relationship – albeit, a non-existent relationship at that – impossible. Which was okay. Or it had been. But lately, ever since she had shown up to visit Charlotte Lu at Collins & Collins, she seemed to filter her way into his every thought. What would  _Lizzie_ think of this? What would  _Lizzie_ do here? Would kind of drink would  _Lizzie_ drink –

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, do you not agree?" Collins questioned abruptly, breaking Darcy out of the deep reverie he had slipped into.

"Oh, yes. Of course," Darcy responded, clearing his throat slightly.

Collins shook his head in response." As do I. Miss Bennet's glowing presence would have brightened up this party's atmosphere considerably. It is a shame she did not come. However, this party is still wonderful without her, do you not attest to the fact, Mr. Darcy?" Collins said, a look of disappointment gracing his features.

"Wait, Lizzie will not be coming?" Darcy asked, slightly alarmed. Her possible appearance was the only reason he had bothered to show up, hoping he could pull her into a short conversation, maybe another one about  _Anna Karenina-_ a novel he knew she loved. He had not thought for it to be a terrible book, but he loved the way her eyes would light up with a bright fire when she was talking about something she had a passion for. He kicked himself internally, deeming himself pathetic for knowing that a two minute conversation with Lizzie Bennet would probably end up being the highlight of his day, if not the week. If Fitz ever found Darcy admitting these thoughts, he'd probably be teased for the rest of eternity.

"Oh no, Mr. Darcy, she will not. And you must refer to her as Miss Bennet! It is only appropriate," Collins seemed to almost scold him.

"Right, right, but about  _Miss_  Bennet. Why is she not coming?" Darcy questioned impatiently.

"I believe Miss Lu –" Collins seemed to have spotted Charlotte Lu at this point, and was waving her over with an overtly loud voice and a strange waving of his arms. Darcy just shook his head before laughing quietly to himself. The man was a complete idiot.

Charlotte Lu seemed to grimace a little, before making her way over, wearing a matching ketchup bottle costume. "Yes, Mr. Collins?" she questioned, giving Darcy a small smile in greeting. He nodded in response.

"What did Miss Bennet say as to why she could not join us with these exciting Hallow's Eve festivities tonight?" Collins asked.

"You were there, right Mr. Collins? Either way, she said she wasn't… feeling… well. A bit under the weather," Charlotte said, her eyes darting back and forth. Darcy watched the flickering of her dark eyes, knowing that she was probably lying.

Growing up with Fitz had surprisingly taught him a thing or two – especially when someone was lying. Fitz would blink often and fast as a young kid, or he would avoid eye contact as much as possible. And Darcy knew that Lizzie couldn't have been sick, as he'd spoken to Fitz just recently about how the two of them had gone out for coffee earlier that day.

If it weren't for the fact Fitz had a boyfriend and wasn't well- in the simplest terms- batting for the other team, Darcy probably would have throttled him for going near Lizzie, as Fitz was a more outgoing and likeable person than himself, and didn't have any problems becoming friends with random strangers he would meet on the streets. But As for now, Fitz served as a pretty good source of Lizzie and what she was doing.

"So… where did you say she was?" Darcy asked in what he considered to be a casual tone. Charlotte's eyebrows shot up in response.

"I think she's up in the offices… catching up on work. I probably wouldn't bother her, if I were you. Coughing and sneezing all over the place. You wouldn't want to get sick, DarcyBo- er, Mr. Darcy. You do have to meet with the board of directors tomorrow morning," Charlotte said quickly.

"Ah yes, I see. Thank you, Charlotte. Please let Miss Bennet know that I hope she makes a speedy recovery," he said curtly. After a slight pause, Collins had opened his mouth to speak again, before Darcy diverted him."I believe I will take a drink now, Collins, thank you."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy! Come, Miss Lu, we must go find a drink to suit the calibre of a man such as Mr. Darcy! I believe that we have several fine wines that we can swindle the bartender into giving us," he said excitedly. "Do you have a preference of wine, Mr. Darcy?" asked Collins eagerly.

"Not particularly. A regular drink would be fine, Collins. Thank you."

Collins mumbled something excitedly to Charlotte, before Charlotte let out an inaudible groan, and allowing herself to be pulled through the crowds and towards the bar with Collins.

Darcy looked around quickly, his heart beating a bit faster than normal. He quickly slipped out of the large room, and made his way down the marble-floored hallways and to the elevators. She was alone. For once, she was alone. No Fitz, no Charlotte, no Ricky Collins bouncing around. He could  _talk_ to her.

He smoothed down his black suspenders, and fixed his maroon shirt, picking off a piece of lint. Glancing at himself in the chrome reflection of the mirror, he grimaced slightly, before trying to twist his face up in a slight smile. The doors of the elevator slid open with a smooth  _ping._ Pushing down on the button for the twenty-fifth floor, he waited, tapping his foot impatiently.

He would tell her, Darcy decided. He would tell her how he felt, because if he didn't – if he didn't, he was pretty damn sure he would end up doing something ridiculously inappropriate – like simply grabbing her by the arms and kissing her. And he wasn't quite sure as to how she would respond to something like that.

_Fifth floor._

He fiddled with his dark black Bailey hat, removing it, and fixing his hair, before putting it back on his head, patting his hair into place.

_Seventh Floor._

"Stop acting like a seventeen year old teenage girl, Darcy," he muttered to himself, a nervous flutter building in his stomach. It felt like going down one of those massive roller coasters Georgie would drag him onto whenever she managed to get him out of the house or office and into an amusement park. "It's going to be  _fun,_ Will. Do you know what that is?" she would tease him.

Darcy had a feeling what was about to occur wasn't going to be Georgie's description of fun.

_Fifteenth Floor._

"She's just a girl," he mumbled, knowing she was much more than that. No, Lizzie Bennet was much more important than  _just_ a girl. The receptionist at his office was  _just_ a girl. The girl who waited on Darcy and Georgie at their favourite restaurant was  _just_ a girl.

Lizzie Bennet was definitely more than  _just_ a girl. He just didn't want to admit it out loud, which would make everything so much more  _real._ Sure, Fitz could tease him about his crush, saying he was acting like a lovesick puppy dog, but saying it out loud would make it a reality. Saying that he lov– saying that he had  _feelings_ for Lizzie Bennet would be admitting that the situation was much more tangible, much more absolute.

And in that deep, romantic, notion, that he knew she secretly loved, he wanted Lizzie to be the first to hear about  _how_ he felt about her. Everything he felt when he was around her, how he loved the spark in her blue eyes when she would state an opinion, how they would glimmer between the lightest of browns and the brightest of greens. How her laugh made him feel as if there wasn't a care in the world. How the slight tilt of her head when she was thinking him entranced him for hours, how she curl up in front of the fireplace while reading a book, how he wanted to tuck that stray lock of her gorgeous dark hair back into place, how he wanted to –

_Ding._ The elevator doors slid open, and he could hear her distinct voice coming from Charlotte's office, and he walked down the empty hall, following the sound of her melodic voice. Her words were a blur, and the only thing he could hear was the pounding of the rushing blood in his head.

His fingers tapped against the sides of his thighs rapidly, and he took in a deep breath, just as he turned the corner.

Hearing her voice die down, he raised his fist slightly, and knocked at the open door.

"Excuse me, Lizzie," he said, his voice cracking in the ever so slightly.  _Don't act like a teenage girl. You're twenty-eight years old and a fully grown man,_ he told himself again, just as Lizzie turned her head, her bright green eyes meeting his brown.

" _Darcy?_ " she sounded surprised, her eyebrows raised in slight confusion.

He nodded slightly, a smile threatening to break out, just because hearing her say his name- albeit, his last name- gave him the strangest feeling in his chest, before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.


End file.
